


Drag me out of Hell and then take me to Heaven

by straightouttapopstar



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Gets really angsty, Heaven/Hell AU, I’ve been holding this fic for a month but now it is time to release this abomination, Kamui is a god, Kamui is also genderless, M/M, kinda complex, this fic is an attempt of me trying to be deep about stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-18 00:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13670352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightouttapopstar/pseuds/straightouttapopstar
Summary: For the first time in millenia, a god cries.





	Drag me out of Hell and then take me to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> The exams have been overwhelming me in my last year of high school and sadly, I’ve been gone for really long :’((( I hope this is good compensation for my absence nonetheless!! A lot of passion and love and thought was poured into this fic and its content, so I hope you enjoy it!

I only hear the bell once every century.

I see several civilisations bury their inventions in the light of new concepts; see families grow up into powerful influences; see more individuals question my existence as time goes; see people praise me and blame me for everything and nothing; see manslaughter and wars come and go. I know it all.

Time doesn’t exist for me. I am stuck on a throne of matter which doesn’t exist—yet it does, because I will it so. I am outside of space, time, reason, explanation; I am in the Earth’s core as well as a thousand galaxies away at the same time. There are no barriers for me. Nothing is impossible, for I am absolute. And those who shall accept me in their hearts shall be granted eternal life at my side.

For I am a god.

Now, I hear the bell being rung by an angel—it’s cheerful, upbeat, with its wings flapping on and on in excitement.

This only happens once every century.

“Angels! We must ensure Him a proper send-off! He looks quite distraught as well—maybe we could cheer Him up!”

But I know I cannot be. I know, I know everything. I can read their thoughts, sense their feelings, acknowledge their aims and intentions—and they are all pure, as pure as their stainless robes and haloes and toothy smiles. They all encircle me in a rather crushing embrace—I can taste their regret for having to send me off already.

“Awh, I betcha already know why we’re so sad!”—grimaces one of the Angels.

“Of course I do—after all, if I didn’t, would I deserve my position?”—I chuckle pensively.

It is difficult for them to let me go. And although I cannot understand this sentiment, as I clearly know I shall be back sooner than they could bat an eye, I appreciate the affection, even if only little. There is no more I need, after all.

After the horde of purity leaves me and stands before me in rows upon rows, I glance at my head angel with a small smile, and he grins back.

They all look like a snowy little forest without animals or vegetation. Like emptiness with feelings.

“Listen—I shall be back quicker than you think. Please do not miss me—that is a wish as well as a command of mine. And please do not cause trouble in my absence.”

Several cries ring out—“we will never, Father!” and “we shall await you with open arms!”

The Angel hovers closer to me with quite a sad expression. Immediately, all of his thoughts rocket into my mind at lightning speed.

_He’s worried—worried, and wary too._

I very well understand why—this isn’t going to be pleasant for me at all. He knows that—but as much as I want to avoid this, I have to fulfill the responsibilities that rest upon my shoulders. I can’t just give up now, not after so much time has passed.

A crooked smile flashes across the Angel’s face as everything goes black.

It only lasts a blink of a second—a click of one’s fingers, a wave of one’s hand. The darkness is only temporary, for there is always light at the end of one’s path. In seconds, I appear in a circular, closed-off room with two thrones on opposite sides, facing each other as if in a stand-off. One is adorned with blue and white, and is perfect, flawless, indescribably ideal. There are very little words in this human language that may describe it, really—throne fit for a god, I may say.

As I take my place on that exact seat, I notice that the same cannot be said about the opposite throne, which is rough, rugged, adorned with the screams of suffering spirits and the taste of agony which all goodness had forsaken. It is, as literally as I could put it, the opposite to my throne—completely devoid of happiness, modesty and benevolence, but driven by lust, hatred and irrational passion.

And on that exact throne sits he.

“Well well well, I say; isn’t it wonderful to see you here again, Kamui?”—he snickers condescendingly, which makes my fists curl around the edges of the throne.

Hell and Heaven metaphorically separate us—roughly twenty steps in the literal sense, but I am uneager to stand up and physically wander to the other side just to give him a severe talk-to. There is no point, after all.

“It is you.”

“Yes, haha! It’s me! Your favourite boy of them all!”

It feels like he’s mocking me as he pronounces his words, in which I taste so much hatred and cruelty it makes my nonexistent organs twist in uncomfortability.

“You are not my favourite boy”—I whisper guiltily—“and you never were.”

Suddenly, his grin disappears, and is replaced by a raging grimace.

“What!? I thought gods didn’t lie.”

“I’m not. You never were my favourite.”

As his fists forcefully curl on the throne’s sides, a fire snakes from under his hands and almost burns the impeccable yet satanic woodwork of the seat.

“Ah yes, because who sacrificed all their afternoons in duty to support his god who had zero confidence in leading a universe? Who was there at all times when god felt unappreciated, unneeded? Who wasted their time on telling god that he has value and purpose and meaning? Just who?”

I can’t reply, and he slams a fist on the side of his throne which makes me jump at the impact.

**“Just who?!”**

_You did._

“Correct”—he spits out disrespectfully, and I cannot look him in the eyes.

Time is a human construct—an abstract way to allow creatures to organize themselves in the universe, for them to find purpose and find a way to make their stay on Earth a little bit more orderly. They do it because no one wants chaos—that’s why laws exist, and society too. For their minds are so liable to dehumanization, loss of common sense, that if left without a reliable guide, they would wage a war on each other until the last man standing. Humans are complicated, but not as much as their collective desire to find patterns even when there are none, just to feel safer and more secure in their current state.

Humans seem complicated to me, even if I am their Father—compared to them, angels are very simplistic. They lack the drive to disobey, to set their own rules, to be independent. Sometimes when I am surrounded by a crowd of them, I feel like I am just as if I were by myself, for they are meaningless. They are there to serve, without doubt or need for anything else. Without a real soul to drive their aspirations, as they do not have any. They seek to serve me; that is their only aim, which they would take their own life for if need be.

But one day, I used to be silly; unexperienced; foolish. I desired to grant a single Angel a personality. To grant them a consciousness capable of thinking and making decisions outside of serving me. I foolishly longed for someone I could talk to without bias, without pressure, but with strong opinions and morals. Someone who could argue back at me, challenge me, go against my wishes without any fear of repercussions.

So I, mistakenly, didn’t let him experience fear at all. He feared none, just like me, but he still treated me as his superior. My life had been perfect.

For a time.

But at that moment, when his eyes hold fire and hatred for me and how I failed him, I want him back. I want him to be my Head Angel again, I want him at my side at all times, to love me and praise me and worship me and advise me—and the desire is momentarily so strong, my physical manifestation is close to leaving this throne and walking to him, kneeling down and begging him to forgive me for what I had done.

But I had done the right thing. And sometimes, even the most benevolent decisions have consequences.

“I don’t think my decision was an error on my part. My actions were justified.”

As I voice my sentence stoically, without distinct emotion, his eyebrows furrow in doubt and disagreement.

“Justified? Do you think me a _fool_ , Kam?”—his tone is so bitter and accusatory, I am close to starting a full-blown debate on how I was correct.

 _Calm down, Kamui, resist your immaturity, let him speak,_ I calm myself down.

“No, I do not; do you think that if I did, I would have given you the right to choose? To be? To stay at my side at all times with a clear moral standing and viewpoint, uncontaminated with bias that the others were subject to?”

“And what the Hell did that give me?”

I admit to myself that it seems to hurt him more than if he never had the privileges I granted to him. It is a double-edged sword, really.

**“WHAT DID IT GIVE ME?”**

“It was not my fault you decided to act on impulse with your _outstanding_ intelligence to cause me to banish you. It’s simple logic, really.”

I had given him the ability to be and think and be conscious of the universe just like me—but in the end, it only served as our demise. For it was a good plan, at first—then, I became increasingly attached to him.

“Has my name escaped your omniscience? Can you call me by my name?”

“Yes, Niles.”

“Ah, that’s much better”—he settled back into his own murky throne and looked around the circular chamber we had been placed in—“it’s a lovely place, isn’t it? Gosh, this conversation feels just like the old times.”

“Truly.”

After a rest moment of peaceful sitting, Niles suddenly stands up and, clothed in the most revealing outfit he possibly could have donned at the moment, he walks towards my throne. Twenty steps later, his hands are scrambling at my legs and feet and lips are kissing the fabric of my robes in a show of longing and pathetic begging.

“Kamui, I want you.”

 _What a sudden change of heart,_ I sigh to myself. Every century it is exactly the same, and always ends in the same exact way. It is sad to think that one day, we had been closer than any other pair in the world—that once, I used to trust him with all my secrets, wishes, doubts and joys. I used to provide him with greater love than I gave to any other being, be it human or supernatural—he was the object of my passions, desires, of everything I had ever wanted.

At some point, his worst traits grew out of control—he was known for his suggestive talk and the desire to be successful, which transformed into great forces of lust and greed. Suddenly, all of my control on him was void and he no longer relied on my authority—he assumed power. It was clear he was planning to overthrow all of my servants, and if given time, maybe even me to become the ultimate deity, reducing me to nothing less than a mere slave to get his passions out on after a bad day.

None of my angels suspected anything but I. It was difficult to smile at him and let him talk to me when I knew what he was trying to achieve—it was difficult to banish him from Heaven when the time came. For it was a single swipe of my hand, and he lost his beautiful wings; and oh did he beg, did he plead, did he negotiate, but my decision was final.

And with tears, I let him fall.

“Kamui, I still love you. I miss you so much, I want to be your Head Angel again. You don’t have to be doing this—please bring me back to Heaven so I may help you.”

I don’t want to reply to his words, because I know that that would force me to cry and weep and rant on about how much I want him to stay with me too, but it is too late. Bringing him back wouldn’t change his character. I know there is no point, because I am god.

But not even a god is immune to feelings.

“Kamui, do you still love me too?”

Despite the strong emotional turmoil present within my mind, I apathetically answer—“I do.”

And he scrambles powerlessly at my feet again, kneeling down and clutching the fabric of my robes until his knuckles turn beige with tears in his eyes, writhing in pain as if he is suffering endlessly.

“Kamui! Let me—let me come back to you!”

This is the regret I feel every time I am tasked to arrive here—since his banishment, and the establishment of Hell (courtesy of Niles), we made an agreement—in order to keep a somewhat neutral relationship between the two polar opposite realms, we are to meet every century. My Angels always emphasise that efficient communication is essential in keeping a good relationship with the enemy.

_The enemy._

“Niles—I wish I could”, I whisper quietly, the taste of regret scorching my tongue in a million ways I cannot describe.

Then, as usual, his hands begin to snake upwards until they reach my elbows, and then they hold onto them with such force it’s difficult not to feel the utter strength. It’s only second before he is standing up, towering over my sitting self and clutching my elbows, keeping me chained to his will and stuck in place as well, with no possibility to defend myself. But I don’t feel unsafe; for the hatred and the cruelty disappear and are replaced by guilt and sadness in his eyes, and even if his shadow looms over me, I feel undisturbed; at peace, even.

Just what do I truly desire? What do I want? One may say that being a god is nothing of major importance—a human would desire so much power, so much possibility, so much knowledge, just to achieve their selfish aims. To buy a house, to have so much money a single treasury could not house it, to have friends, popularity, confidence—in the end, it is all to accomplish something. But what they do not consider, is that I have no aim. When you are a god, you have nothing to accomplish. You can accomplish anything faster than the click of a finger, at any time you want—so what's the point of wishing? Hoping? Driving your life towards one ambition that will never exist? Why hope when you can do anything?

What is the point?

What is the point of feeling passion, when the emptiness of omniscience is so overwhelming that it feels absurd? When I know what will happen and what happened but cannot understand what is happening right now?

"I can't. I—I can't do this, Niles."

"Sweetie, it's alright, you just have to bring me back--"

"No.”

I cannot trust him any longer. It is pathetic to look upon him and recognise in him the person I used to love before humans, people, the universe, before everything. For after that, I had grown up. When we were still who halves of the same perfect apple, I used to be immature; immodest, clothed in colourful garments which expressed my equally colourful feelings and selfish, unready to sacrifice my eternity for the birth of a new life on a new earth. When his slice of the fruit had grown rotten, contaminated with ravening lust and the desire to overthrow me, my love no longer meant anything. I grew cold, distant, which made it so much easier to spontaneously reject him when the time was right. My unkempt liquor emotions became unbreakable graphite. I had mercy for humans, sinners, good Samaritans, my faithful servants; but when considering Niles, my mercy fell just a little bit too short to spare him.

"What?"

"No."

“But Kam—“

“I can’t. I’ve told you this every single time we have met. Please understand that I do...appreciate your affection, and I do think you’re a good person, but I can’t do this. I cannot put my children in danger by bringing you back. It’s just not a good idea.”

He looks so hurt by my words then—and I wish I could embrace him and tell him that now, he shall be back at my side again. But at the same time, I know that that is too much of a risk—and sacrifices must be made. After all, it’s not about what I think is right. It’s about what is morally correct. Giving him an another chance to destroy the universe is not. It’s thoughtlessly putting billions of souls who have existed and yet to exist and exist now to fulfill my own selfish desires.

“Kam, do you not love me back?”

“Do not put me in such a position, Niles—I do. Trust me, I love you like I love everyone I created, including you. My love for you is like the culmination of the affection I gift everyone with in this world. But love is irrelevant when so many lives are at stake. I can make such a big step, hoping that you won’t make a mistake again and plunge the universe into chaos. But I will not.”

Then, Niles pulls himself back and stands up straight in front of me, his regretful grimace now a knowing smirk. He stares deeply into my eyes, trying to find a way for me to give in to his charms, but to no avail. Then, from his throat, a very self-pitying cackle is released before he looks at me again, shaking his head subtly in denial.

“Well well, I would have never supposed you would grow up to become such a mature little gentleman. I see you have your priorities straight”—the mockery was there but I do not react, instead choosing to point my steely stare at his eyes in return.

“Yes. I have realized what is important now. And it isn’t you.”

“Aww, what a _shame_ , Kam. Seems like I’ll have to find someone else to bother for the rest of my days, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe how pathetic you have become. _I’m a little god and I have a heaven and all my angel servants and people love so so much and my life is perfect! I suddenly don’t care about any of my past friends who put soo much time into making me not feel bad about my work!_ How great. Truly stunning.”

I don’t reply, but continue to look at him apathetically nonetheless.

“I’m sick of you and your goddamned priorities, Kamui. You hear me? I’m _sick_ of them”—he suddenly spits on the ground beside him in disgust—“this is the last time. My patience wears thin about this game of cat and mouse.”

He hastily walks back to his own throne and sits down.

“I’ve been so helpful—such a great friend, supporter, _lover_ ”—he puts emphasis on that word—“and this is the thanks I get? _Stunning_.”

Suddenly, I feel my head starting to ache like a thousand knives piercing it at the same time, and my hand rises to feel my scorching forehead. My vision becomes blurry and my limbs begin to shake.

“I hate you. You are a terrible god. Self-centered, arrogant, disrespectful—absolutely terrible. I wish you didn’t exist.”

For the first time in millenia, god cries.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for having a look at this fic!! Kudos and comments always brighten my day, so if you did enjoy it please make sure to leave those! Thank you so much, and please stay on the lookout for more content (possibly)


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